"Drogon, what's wrong? Drogon!" As soon as Daenerys stepped out of the room, she sensed something was wrong with Drogon. She could clearly feel the madness and ferocity radiating from him, and she frantically patted his flank in alarm.
"Hmm?" Feeling Daenerys's touch, Drogon turned his head, his crimson eyes fixing on her. Startled, she instinctively leaned back to avoid his menacing gaze.
"Drogon, what's wrong?" Daenerys asked, a mix of fear and concern in her voice. Drogon had never acted this way toward her before; only Rhaegal and Viserion occasionally showed such ferocity when fighting over food.
Seeing Daenerys's fear, Drogon quickly suppressed his aura and turned to survey their surroundings.
The doors had all been opened, revealing a staircase leading upward. Only when she saw Drogon gradually calming down did Daenerys raise her torch and ascend the stairs.
The spiral staircase led to a large hall containing only a gray stone table. On it lay a heart, long since rotted but still pulsing. The swollen, grotesque organ, its veins a livid blue-purple, continued to pump blood, though its destination remained unknown.
Through the heart, Drogon seemed to see countless figures—men, women, old women, and children—all with vacant expressions.
Unbeknownst to Drogon, Daenerys saw far more. Whispers echoed in her ears, and the same illusions she had experienced earlier reappeared, blurring the line between reality and fantasy.
Drogon watched Daenerys's face, which flickered between shadows and light, with growing concern. Unlike earlier in the room, Drogon hadn't fallen into the same illusion as Daenerys, and he had no idea what she was experiencing.
Just as he was wondering what to do, he saw Daenerys staring around in terror, clawing frantically at her body as if it were crawling with maggots.
This world was filled with too many bizarre methods. Drogon didn't know if the grand hall might have a way to kill humans mentally, and he didn't dare take that risk.
He flew to the Rotting Heart and unleashed a blast of black-red dragonflame. The moment the flames touched the heart, Drogon heard a cacophony of screams erupting from within—male, female, and child.
Burning this heart burned more dragonflame than burning several people. As the heart gradually turned to ash, Drogon was surprised to see tiny white lights drifting up from its surface.
He blinked his dragon eyes, thinking he was seeing things, but the lights actually floated toward him.
*What the hell?* He quickly recoiled, but the lights seemed to have eyes, darting toward him at several times their previous speed and instantly piercing his body.
*Shit!* Drogon couldn't help but swear.
*What good could possibly come from something that emerged from such a grotesque heart?*
As the light points entered his body, Drogon felt an overwhelming sense of comfort, as if he were soaking in a warm spring.
He could clearly sense that his flesh, bones, and magical power had strengthened by two or three times.
*Such a disgusting thing could contain something so good?* Drogon now understood that he had absorbed the purest energy from the Rotting Heart, along with something indescribable.
As he carefully examined the changes in his body, he faintly sensed a white orb, about the size of a soybean, silently residing in his mind.
*What is this?* It must have formed from the light points. He couldn't touch it. *Let's hope it doesn't cause any harm.* Given how the light points had strengthened his body, Drogon wasn't too worried.
The burning of the heart immediately jolted Daenerys awake. Staring at the pile of ashes on the table, she felt a lingering dread. *If Drogon hadn't been here, I might not have woken up.*
She just wanted to escape. Picking up a torch from the floor, she hurried down the spiral staircase. The doors she had opened earlier had vanished, leaving only a blinding white light at the end of the corridor.
As she reached the light, she saw Paiya charging toward her, dagger raised. He yelled, his voice stiff and puppet-like, "What did you do to the Immortals? I'll kill you!" His movements were no longer swift and graceful, but stiff and mechanical.
Before he could reach Daenerys, Drogon blasted him with dragonflame. The man fell to the ground, screaming as he clutched his dagger. The air wasn't filled with the scent of burning flesh, but with a putrid stench. Without hesitation, Daenerys stepped over the Male Warlock and rushed out the door.
Rakharo, who had been anxiously searching for Daenerys outside, saw her and Drogon and hurried to meet them.
"Let's go! We need to get back quickly," the Male Warlock urged. As one of the Thirteen, Drogon had not only killed him but also burned the Immortals. Daenerys didn't know how the royal family and the other Great Masters would deal with them, and she needed to return as soon as possible.
Half an hour later, Daenerys saw Jorah and the others safe and sound, and they all breathed a collective sigh of relief.
"Pack your things. We leave this place immediately," Daenerys told Jorah.
"Where are we going?"
"To find Xaro!"
Jorah stared at Daenerys in surprise, then quickly ordered the Dothraki to pack their belongings.
As dusk settled over the city, Daenerys divided her group into two. The women and children, escorted by a few Dothraki warriors, were sent to the docks. Daenerys, along with the three dragons and more than twenty others, including Jorah, set out for the estate where Xaro resided.
With Drogon leading the charge and dragonflame clearing the way, they quickly stormed Xaro's residence. Most of Xaro's men, terrified by the dragon's might, surrendered their weapons. Those who resisted were cut down, and Xaro was captured alive.
Daenerys had initially held a favorable impression of Xaro. Though she knew he'd used Sumai to bring them into the city with ulterior motives, and that he'd nearly married her, she hadn't expected him to resort to murder and robbery when his proposal failed. Had it not been for Drogon, she might have lost everything.
"Spare my life, Daenerys, and I'll give you all my ships," Xaro pleaded, his former elegance stripped away, leaving him a pathetic figure in his nightshirt, begging for his life.
"Blood of My Blood!"
Rakharo stepped forward, drew his dagger, and stabbed Xaro in the chest. Xaro opened his mouth, then collapsed lifelessly to the ground.
"Take all the gold, jewels, and prisoners!" Jorah shouted. The Dothraki erupted in cheers, swarming through the residence to plunder Xaro's wealth—their favorite and most skilled activity.
Xaro's mansion was overflowing with treasures: gold and silver cutlery, bronze artifacts. The Dothraki wanted to take everything, but time was limited, and some items were too large to carry. Reluctantly, they used their daggers to pry valuable gems from their settings.
As the looting neared its end, Daenerys received a message from the Qarthian royal family, urging her to leave as soon as possible. They were no longer welcome in Qarth.
The Tourmaline Brotherhood was also plotting to ambush them, but they hadn't yet secured the approval of the remaining eleven Great Masters. If Xaro and the Male Warlock Pyat Pree hadn't attacked Daenerys first, she would have been trapped in Qarth.
Qarth was a commercial city, and all thirteen Great Masters were keen to maintain its reputation. Xaro and Pyat Pree's public attack, which failed, had already violated the rules of exchange. If the royal family and the remaining eleven Great Masters were to attack Daenerys next, the city's reputation would suffer greatly.
Of course, a major reason for the royal family and the eleven Great Masters' concession was the three dragons. Their destructive power had become a threat to both them and the city.
When Jorah explained this to Daenerys, she was immediately excited. The little dragons had become a significant force at her disposal.
However, she knew that the patience of Qarth's leaders was limited and that she couldn't linger here. She led the Dothraki in driving the captives toward the docks.
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